Tired
by peacelovedope
Summary: "Darry didn't deserve to work like an old man when he was only twenty." Darry is exhausted from work and Soda takes care of him. CHAPTER FIVE UP NOW! I'M FINALLY BACK PEOPLE! T for mild swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If you think I own the Outsiders, you should be in therapy, not reading fanfiction.**

 **A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK. Feel free to send flames – I print them off and hang them above my computer to motivate me to write MORE sucky stories. R &R, people! Also, for now this is a one-shot, but I'm thinking of adding a chapter or two, either as several unrelated one-shots or as a continuous story. Let me know what you think!**

Darry was exhausted.

His day had been long, and the knowledge that he would have to get up again in just a few hours weighed heavily on his shoulders, preventing sleep. He had tried everything that usually worked when Pony had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep – water, multiple bathroom breaks, even Mom and Dad's old noise maker – but nothing helped. He was simply too tired to sleep, and it didn't help that his muscles would spasm every five minutes. His back and shoulders throbbed and he could barely keep his eyes open, but still sleep eluded him.

Darry's thoughts drifted to his old high school friends. He wondered where they were now. Probably in college, or the owners of massive firms that they inherited from their fathers. Certainly none of them were lying in bed unable to sleep because their muscles ached and burned and they still had bills to pay.

 _Bills._

Even the passing thought left his heart pounding and a sour taste in his mouth. Checks were bouncing left and right, and a guy from the electric company was coming out later that day to turn off the electricity. Water was next. Darry rubbed his eyes and tried hard not to think about just how close they were to losing the house. He hadn't told Soda or Pony, of course – there was nothing they could do, so why give them more to stress about? He knew Soda was worried about him. Even Pony looked at him funny when he said Pony's report card could wait and started in on bills instead.

Darry was starting to wonder if that worry might be justified. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal – months, probably. Because money was so tight, he'd started leaving Soda and Pony to eat dinner alone while he showered, promising to eat after, then waiting until they went to bed to eat the leftovers from their plates. Yes, it was a little repulsive, and sometimes it made his stomach turn (there had to be a pretty good reason for either one of them to leave food on their plates), but it was necessary. Just like all the other things he sacrificed, like taking ice cold showers when all he wanted was to soothe his aching muscles, or working 12 hours a day even when he was sick or half-delirious from exhaustion. All of it was necessary.

And so was making sure Pony was okay when he woke up screaming from a nightmare, as he was right now.

Darry's muscles screamed in protest as he sat up too fast, and he bit back a groan before easing himself out of bed and hobbling down the hallway. Soda always comforted Pony, but he always checked on them anyway, making sure they didn't need anything, making sure he didn't have to be Superman at 4 A.M.

Of course, Soda had it under control. Darry still poked his head in and whispered, "He okay?" even though he knew he was. And Soda still nodded, even though he knew Darry knew.

Then, something happened a little different from most nights. Pony raised his head, seemingly recovered, and stopped short.

"Darry, you okay?" he whispered, and Darry paused for a minute, thrown. Then he forced a weak grin that felt more like a grimace.

"Yeah, I'm fine, kiddo. Go back to bed."

But Pony had already slipped away from Soda and stood in front of Darry, evaluating him. Even Soda had stood up and was frowning in concern.

"Listen, you guys have school in the morning," Darry said in what he hoped was a firm voice. "You need sleep." _So do you,_ a voice in his head echoed. Darry shook it off.

"You're hunched," Pony pointed out, but his voice was a little less certain – probably because he knew how much importance Darry placed on school. Unfortunately for Darry, Soda came to his rescue.

"Pony's right, Dar. You look dead on your feet," he observed, his voice gentle and concerned. Darry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a wave of dizziness passed over him and he was forced to grab the doorframe for support, shutting his eyes tight and trying hard not to vomit. He didn't open them until he felt himself being lowered gently onto the couch, and even then all he could do was gesture weakly. Thankfully, Soda understood, and a trashcan was shoved into his hands just in time. Distantly Darry heard Pony's gasp and Soda telling him to go back to bed, but all he could focus on was the horrible pain and muscle spasms each time he retched. It seemed like ages before it stopped. Darry leaned back, choking down pained sobs, barely hearing Soda frantically asking what was wrong. Finally he got himself under control, taking deep, steadying breaths and doing his best not to see the huge pile of bills on the table. Soda was staring at him, white-faced.

"Dar," he said a little shakily, uncertainly. "Dar. Are you – are you okay, now?" He pointed an accusing finger at Darry, but it wavered. Darry nodded, guiltily.

"Sorry," he mumbled, ashamed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Soda nodded, breathing hard. "So what happened?" he asked, his voice gentler now, but still a little scared. "I thought you were dyin' or somethin'." He clearly meant for it to sound light-hearted, but to Darry he sounded dead serious.

"Sorry," he repeated, guilty at having caused his brother worry. "I'm fine now, really. I just got a little dizzy."

Soda looked at him disbelievingly.

"Really," Darry repeated, nodding a little, encouraging Soda to believe him, to drop it, just _drop it_ –

"You must think I'm real dumb to try somethin' like that."

Darry looked over in surprise.

"You just fainted, threw up, and cried – which you haven't done since you were about thirteen, by the way – and I'm expected t' believe it was because you were _dizzy_?" Soda sounded almost amused, and Darry bit back a sigh. It was a pretty dumb excuse.

"I just don't want to worry you, okay?" he said honestly. "Listen, it's nothin' bad. I just got dizzy cause I ain't been sleepin' too good, and all that vomiting really hurt my back. I pulled it again," he said, subconsciously pulling the stack of bills towards him. It wasn't the whole truth, but close enough that Soda would probably believe him.

Soda glared at him, pulling the bills away again. "Okay, I believe you," he said, a little hesitantly. "But, listen, Dar, you gotta sleep more. And eat more. I'm startin' to suspect you don't eat at all, the way you always refusin' to eat with us." He gave a light smile, but it seemed strained. "I'm real worried about you, Dar. Ponyboy is too." He paused, waiting for Darry's reluctant nod, before grinning and saying, "But I bet you wouldn't mind a back-rub."

Darry gave a sincere smile at that, easing himself down on his stomach. "You're my savior, Pepsi-Cola."

Soda just grinned as he started to massage Darry's shoulders and back, and Darry nearly groaned in relief. "Thanks, Soda," he mumbled, feeling his eyes start to close. "You're the best."

 **A/N: R &R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't even own a car, much less the Outsiders.**

 **A/N: This chapter is dedicated to HappierThanMost, who, aside from being a great author, has been incredibly supportive and helpful. Remember to review!**

When Darry woke the next morning the first thing he noticed was how stiff and sore his whole body was. The second thing he noticed was the reason – he was sleeping on the couch, crunched up awkwardly to accommodate his large size. Groaning, he eased himself up and looked around, wondering what time it was. The clock caught his eye, and he suddenly felt sick – 7:30. He had to be at work in a half-hour, and Soda hadn't woken him up. Gritting his teeth, Darry shoved off the couch and stormed into the kitchen, where Soda and Pony were creeping around getting ready for school, trying not to wake him. Soda spotted him first and froze, guilt creeping over his face. Darry clenched his fists.

"Seven thirty," he spat, his voice nearly shaking with anger. "Seven thirty. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you _trying_ to get me fired? Huh? Do you think living in the streets sounds fun?"

Soda's eyes were wide and frightened; Darry hadn't been this mad in a long time. "You were sick–" he started, but Darry cut him off.

"So what? Do you think the world just stops when I'm sick? Do you think my boss is going to say, 'Darrel didn't show up today, but he probably didn't sleep well, so I should just pay him anyway'? That's not how the world works, Soda! Maybe if you could get it through your thick skull – "

"STOP YELLING AT HIM!"

Darry whirled around and stared at Ponyboy in shock. It took him a minute to find words, but just as he opened his mouth to start yelling, Soda said quietly, "You're gonna be late, Dar."

"Who's fault is that!" Darry shot back, but he knew Soda was right. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to curb the headache he could already feel coming on, and stalked to his bedroom. He got dressed quickly and reached for the handle, but changed his mind last minute and sank down to the floor instead, cradling his head in his hands. He remembered Soda's frightened expression and wondered if he was really that bad a brother that even happy-go-lucky Sodapop would be scared of him. He was doing his best, he reassured himself, and after all, it wasn't easy. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't _enough_. It couldn't be. After all, he was on the verge of losing the house and – Darry groaned aloud at the thought – the electricity would be shut off in just a few hours. He figured he'd better warn Soda and Ponyboy, but couldn't find the will to get up. His brothers hated him, and for what? Darry wasn't stupid, he knew he was basically the sole supporter of their family, but he was failing at that too.

"I'm a failure," he said aloud, lightly banging his head against the wall. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. Golly, but he was a mess. "C'mon, Darry," he mumbled miserably. "Even if they hate you, you still gotta support them. Those bills ain't gonna pay themselves." Sighing, Darry forced himself up and back out to the kitchen.

"Ponyboy, you got a ride?" he asked tiredly, and Pony looked at him in surprise before nodding. "Yeah, Two-Bit's takin' me."

"Good. And I don't want to find out you've been sent to the principal's office again, you hear?" Pony nodded again and Darry turned to Soda. "You need a ride?" he asked, and Soda frowned.

"I'm goin' with Steve," he said uncertainly, "but, Darry–"

"I gotta go, I'm already late," Darry said, not wanting to hear it. "Call if you need anything, you hear?" They both nodded and Darry beat it out of there, finally feeling like he could breathe again. By the time he reached his work site, he felt almost normal.

It was almost two o'clock by the time Darry finally stopped for a break. He could barely think straight and had to be helped down the ladder because his muscles were so cramped he couldn't straighten up. His skin felt like it was on fire and he was drenched in sweat. Dazedly he registered someone telling him to go home, but he mumbled a refusal. He doubted he could drive anyway.

Finally, after drinking an enormous amount of water and taking such a long break his boss threatened to dock his pay, Darry felt clear-headed enough to start working again, hauling two bundles of roofing at a time in the hopes that he would be able to go home early. Unfortunately, all this did was cause him to fall off the ladder twice. It didn't help that sweat kept running in his eyes, making it difficult to see. Finally, after smashing three fingers with a hammer, Darry reluctantly staggered down the ladder to ask his boss how much pay he would lose if he went home now. He would've kept working no matter what, but Darry was no fool, and he'd come close to breaking his neck twice already – at this rate, he was sure to get an injury serious enough to keep him from work even longer, and he couldn't afford hospital bills anyway. Thankfully, his boss recognized how sick he was, and offered to let him go with half of today's pay. Technically, Darry had worked seven of the eight hours, but he knew most bosses wouldn't pay him anything, and accepted the conditions without argument; besides, Darry was too busy thinking about the hot shower that awaited him at home to care. He was just turning to go when his boss called him back.

"Hey, Curtis!"

"Yes?" Darry said tiredly, turning around again, trying not to think about that nice hot shower and maybe a back-rub. _So close_.

"Your brother called – Sodapop. Said the youngest got in some trouble at school. I didn't want to tell you and interrupt your work, but I figured you should know before you go." He winked. Thankfully, Darry was too tired to be mad. He just nodded and trooped to the truck, dragging his feet and praying he didn't fall asleep at a red light.

For once, Darry wished the drive home from work was longer. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with Ponyboy; in fact, he wished he didn't have to. He had no energy for yelling or even lecturing – hell, he could barely even think straight. But he knew it was necessary. He couldn't send Ponyboy the wrong message by letting him get away with it, whatever it was. If Darry didn't keep his brothers in control, the state might step in, and then he'd lose them. They were going to have more than enough excuses to take away his brothers anyway – aside from massive debt and no electricity (which he'd forgotten to warn Soda and Ponyboy about), he was close to losing both the house and his second job, which he was going to have to cancel. Darry cursed under his breath. He'd been planning on going grocery shopping after work, but that wasn't going to happen now, and with no electricity – cold SpaghettiOs for dinner, then.

The instant Darry pulled into the driveway, Soda came tearing out of the house.

"Darry! Darry! The electricity's off! What should we – "

"I know," Darry cut him off, not in the mood for drama. "I ain't been paying the bills lately."

Soda looked dumbfounded. "Golly, why not?"

"I didn't feel like it. Why do you think?" Darry snapped, brushing past him and into the house. Soda followed, looking hurt and a little confused.

"Gee, Dar, I thought we were fine. With you putting in all them extra hours – "

"You thought we'd suddenly be rich?" Darry said harshly, and immediately regretted it when he saw Soda's wounded expression. "Listen, I'm sorry, Soda. I've had a real tough day and I couldn't even go grocery shopping cause I had to leave early. Speaking of which…" he mumbled, grabbing the phone and dialing. "Hey, Mr. Montgomery? Yeah, this is Darry. Yeah, listen I can't come in today. I'm real sorry – " Darry held the phone away from his ear, wincing at the expletives coming from the other end. "Yeah, I know I ain't gettin' paid. Yeah, I'm gonna be in tomorrow. Okay. Yeah, bye."

Darry hung up the phone and sighed shakily, massaging his temples. "Where's Ponyboy?"

"In his room," Soda said, looking confused, "but, Dar, why aren't you going to work–?"

Darry brushed past him and stalked to Ponyboy's room. He flung the door open and glowered at the startled boy. "What the hell happened, huh?" he snapped, feeling the pent-up rage of a stressful day bursting out. "Soda called me – at _work_ , I might add – because you were in so much trouble at school. Right after I specifically told you to stay _out_ of trouble! Goddammit, Ponyboy, the state's already breathing down my neck. They have enough reason to put you in some boy's home already without you getting in trouble all the time! You had better start using that head, or so help me I'll – "

"Lay off, Darry," Soda interrupted, coming up next to him. He sounded pretty pissed, and when Darry looked at Pony and saw that he was crying, he realized why. He let loose a string of curses that would've made a sailor blush and stormed out, practically shaking with rage. He stormed to the kitchen, dug out the last can of SpaghettiOs, and dumped them in a big bowl that he slammed down on the table, muttering half-heartedly, "Dinner's served." Darry stormed back to his room and slammed the door, flopping down on the bed with a muffled noise of pain. He knew he was being immature, but goddammit, he was only twenty. How the hell was he supposed to take care of a couple of kids?

"Maybe I would be better off in a boy's home." Ponyboy's choked voice drifted through the thin walls, making Darry sit up sharply. "At least I wouldn't have to listen to _Darry_ constantly nagging me."

Soda's voice murmured a response, but Darry didn't hear it. Not for the first time, his eyes blurred with tears. Blinking hard, he scooped up a photo of his parents from the nightstand and stared at it fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Mom, Dad," he whispered, tears coursing down his cheeks. "I try so hard to take care of them, provide for them, even if it makes them hate me. But now I can't even do that. I can't even work a full day without wimping out." He took a deep breath, shaking the photo a little, trying to make them understand. "I tried, really I did. I tried to make you proud." Darry took a deep, shaky breath, trying hard not to sob. "I'm such a failure." He pressed his forehead to the frame, crying softly, letting out his pent-up emotions.

As he drifted off that night, Darry realized he didn't even know what Ponyboy got in trouble for.

 **A/N: On that happy note…**

 **Took kind of a risk with this chapter, going the sappy cliché route, but I think it turned out okay. Next chapter features the rest of the gang! R &R.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If you haven't figured it out by now…**

 **A/N: I'm back! This chapter took a little longer than anticipated, so thanks for the patience ;) Also, a big shout out to all my reviewers is in order! I couldn't do it without you guys, so THANK YOU.**

 **Rose: Thank you so much! (And sorry I made you cry) ;).**

The next couple of days were a haze of exhaustion and fights with Ponyboy and, now, Sodapop, who had discovered that Pony had been sent to the office for defending Johnny against a couple of Socs. Apparently, Darry should've known his kid brother would never do anything bad, the way he had done the last eight times he got sent to the principal's office.

Darry had not had a real, true fight with Soda in years, and it was surprisingly miserable, for both of them. On several occasions Darry heard Two-Bit telling Soda to lay off, and Steve glared at Darry and muttered under his breath whenever he came over. At least Dallas and Johnny hadn't taken sides – Dally had been spending too much time drunk at Buck's to be concerned with their argument, and Johnny was far too nice to blame either one, though Darry swore he caught Johnny giving him a reproachful look when he snapped at Pony during dinner the other night.

Unfortunately for Darry, the world didn't care that you got in a fight with your brother, so life continued on as ever. Darry still had to work 12 hours a day just to put food on the table, and for once he wished they would acknowledge it. He gave up college for Ponyboy, and they were acting like he was pure evil, like he had yelled at Pony because he thought it would be fun. Perhaps it had never crossed Soda's mind, but he certainly didn't _enjoy_ it, he did it because it was necessary. Darry would even go so far to say it was as unpleasant for him as it was for Ponyboy, but they would hardly understand that, so why try? Darry would prefer to pretend that nothing was wrong until they all forgot about it.

Thankfully, Soda seemed fine with that. He gave Darry the silent treatment unless speaking to him was absolutely necessary, and when he did, it was the short politeness most often shown to a stranger. This bothered Darry, but not enough to confront Soda; he was far too tired to risk turning their house into a battlefield again, and the constant pounding of his head simply would not permit him to yell. At least this meant he was laying off Ponyboy, which Soda seemed pleased about. He probably thought it had to do with their recent fighting, and Darry certainly wasn't going to correct him.

All in all, things were looking up. Aside from the tentative truce between him and Sodapop, Darry had finally gotten both paychecks – one of which contained a cash bonus and a note from his boss saying he was a hard worker and an asset to the company. The bonus was enough to cover groceries for the week and get the electricity turned back on, which Darry was eternally grateful for, and when Two-Bit saw it, he was so excited he promised to get the guys over the next night to celebrate.

The next day at work Darry couldn't stop smiling, despite his exhaustion, and he skipped his break in favor of going grocery shopping and then dropping the groceries off at the house so Sodapop could unpack them. He had just gotten back up on the roof when there was a shout from below, and Darry whirled around just in time to see Hal Jackson, one of the oldest and most experienced roofers, topple backwards over the side of the roof.

Within seconds the air was so full of yells Darry couldn't hear his own, and everybody was running over or climbing down for a look. Darry stood on the edge of the roof and watched, a little dazed, as people hollered for somebody to call an ambulance, to move him, not to move him, to try and wake him up, to see if he was alive, to stay back – it was chaos. It seemed like ages before the ambulance finally arrived and loaded Hal onto a stretcher, and then there was dead silence for a few minutes. Finally the supervisor just hollered, "Alright, back to work, everyone," and just like that, nothing had happened. Darry trooped back to the spot he'd been working at before and picked up the hammer, staring at it. When he'd first started working there, he'd been terrified of heights. After a few weeks he got over it, but right now Darry was certain if he looked over the side of the roof he'd throw up.

"Hey, the man said back to work," one of the guys next to him snapped. Darry looked at him slowly.

"Will Hal be okay?" he asked finally, and the man laughed.

"Shoot, kid, Hal's dead. Broke his neck," he explained, and Darry felt sick. Still, this woke him up a little, and he slowly returned to work, staying away from the edges. By the end of work Darry was a nervous wreck from trying not to look at the ground and he took such a long time going down the ladder one of the guys threatened to knock it over.

On the way to his next job, Darry pulled over twice to throw up.

Darry's second job was working as stock clerk at a warehouse, and despite his prayers that today would not have much physical work, it was almost entirely unloading trucks, carrying heavy boxes, and stocking shelves. By the time the four hours were up, Darry was seriously considering calling Two-Bit to pick him up, but he decided against it. They were probably already celebrating at the house, and besides, he wasn't in _that_ much pain, he told himself. He'd be fine as soon as he stopped acting like a pussy and got in the truck.

Sadly, this wasn't entirely true. Darry sat in the truck with tears streaming down his cheeks for almost ten minutes before he felt safe to even attempt to move, and this caused so much pain he had to wait another ten minutes before he could start driving. He wondered if he'd even be able to get out of the truck without help, but he hardly had a choice; there was no way in hell he was going to disturb their party just because he was tired, and besides, what would he do, honk until somebody came out?

"No way," Darry muttered, his resolve strengthening when he realized he could hear the gang laughing and shrieking from almost two blocks away. Darry nearly groaned aloud at the thought that he'd have to get past them to get at his nice hot shower, and there was no way he could drag Soda away from the party for a back rub. "Dammit," Darry cursed under his breath. "There goes my quiet, restful evening."

Darry pulled into the driveway and got out of the truck purely on autopilot, his brain simply too blank and tired to process the pain. His body was shaking with exhaustion by the time he got inside, but he figured it would be rude not to at least acknowledge the gang – after all, the party was because of _his_ bonus – but the instant Darry stepped into the kitchen he froze in absolute horror.

Food was everywhere, splattered all over the walls, all over the gang, everywhere. Soda and Two-Bit were both still holding food, preparing to throw, and the rest of the gang had obviously participated as well, even Dallas and Johnny. And it was not just any food, but the groceries Darry had just bought with his bonus, the groceries he'd put in overtime to get, the groceries he'd been expecting to last at least a week, if not until his next paycheck. Darry couldn't even speak.

Finally, Soda, being the bravest and perhaps the stupidest, said bracingly, "Listen, Dar, it's not as bad as it looks–"

It was like someone had pressed the play button. In an instant Darry's mind filled with red haze and his body trembled with fury. He hadn't been this mad in years. "Not as bad as it looks?" he yelled, his head giving a massive throb. "Not as bad as it _looks_?! Are you insane? Do you know how hard I worked to get that? How many extra hours I put in so I could feed _you_?" Soda flinched and didn't reply. "What on earth possessed you to think you should waste it all for a few minutes of fun?! Now we're going to go hungry until I get my next paycheck, which is a _month_ _away_! How the hell am I supposed to feed you now? Don't you think I have enough problems without having to clean up your dumb-ass mistakes? Did it even occur to you – "

"Darry," Ponyboy said quietly, "you're scaring me."

Darry stopped short, all the anger draining out of him and being replaced with guilt. Suddenly he felt very tired and very, very old. He sagged against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy, and shut his eyes. All the events of the day were catching up to him and he couldn't handle it. As much to his surprise as anyone's, Darry sank to the floor and sobbed.

 **A/N: That's two sappy chapters in a row – I must be getting soft in my old age ;) I was having a bit of writer's block with this chapter and I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I figured I might as well just post it. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but Chapter 4 picks up right where this one leaves off, and I've already started it so it won't be too long a wait. Also, Darry gets laid off and Soda drops out! R &R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Should I bother?**

 **A/N: Again, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter; everything I wrote sounded better in my head and it required a lot of editing (I spelled** _ **soak**_ **as** _ **shoke**_ **, for Christ's sake), but it's FINALLY UP and I am so glad. I've been relapsing a little lately and I'm feeling kind of insecure about this chapter, so please review and tell me how awesome I am ;) As of now I have like 850 views for this story, so THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. Also, let me know what you think about Soda's POV! Is he OOC, unrealistic, annoying, or the most brilliant thing since Kleenexes for depression? ;)**

 **Also, this chapter is dedicated to CriminalOutsider'sGirl14, who requested Soda or Ponyboy's POV – I hope it satisfies!**

 **Allie: Thank you, your feedback means a lot! I agree, the gang was very out of line and hopefully in this chapter you'll get to understand their – ahem –** _ **misguided**_ **reasons, especially Soda's. I apologize for tormenting you with the long wait, but I had my reasons. *evil laughter***

"Darry!" Soda dashed to his brother's side, guilt and shame welling in him so suddenly he felt bile rising in his throat. Forcing it down, he wrapped his arms around Darry and rocked him, mumbling reassuring words, feeling Darry's tears soak his shirt. He spoke his brother's name again, and this time Darry responded, his eyes focusing in on Soda's as he sobbed and gasped for breath. Soda saw Darry's eyes flit to Ponyboy, who was gawking unashamedly, and then down to the floor, his cheeks coloring with shame. Soda, catching his embarrassment, gently guided Darry's head to his shoulder, letting him breathe deeply, trying to calm down. Soda rubbed his back gently and realized he was crying too, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I'm so, so sorry, Darry," he stuttered, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. "I'm sor–" His voice cut off abruptly as Darry grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug, breathing hard and fast. Soda froze for a second, shocked, then melted into the hug, trying to offer back as much comfort as he was receiving. Finally Darry pulled back, exhaling shakily, and Soda saw that his eyes were red and his face pale and lined with exhaustion. Surprisingly, it was Dally who spoke first.

"Listen, man, we'll clean it up. Just get some rest, okay? You ain't lookin' so hot." Darry raised his head slowly, as if with great effort, and nodded slowly, shocking them all. Soda took a deep breath, wiping his cheeks fiercely, and slipped his arm around Darry, pulling him to his feet. He wasn't surprised to find Darry leaning nearly all of his weight onto him, but he didn't mind. They had fucked-up big time; it was the least he could do. He helped Darry hobble to the bedroom, shocked and horrified by his brother's weakness, and as he eased Darry onto the bed, he could hear the gang starting to clean up the kitchen, speaking in hushed voices. Soda sighed heavily and began to gently knead Darry's back and shoulders without invitation. He knew Darry must be in a considerable amount of pain to not even be able to walk, but Soda was still shocked at how tight Darry's muscles were and how much his efforts seemed to be hurting him. His brother actually cried out once, and asked him to take a break several times. It didn't take long for Soda to put him out, and as he watched Darry sleep, Soda wondered just what kind of day he'd had.

Once Soda got back to the kitchen, he found the place surprisingly organized. All food that could be salvaged – almost nothing – was on the table, while Steve and Two-Bit mopped the floor and Dally, Pony, and Johnny cleaned off the walls. As soon as they saw him enter, all activity stopped and Johnny asked tentatively, "Is he – is he okay?" He cringed as he spoke and Soda felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid; knowing him, he probably thought he was personally responsible. Soda bit his lip, deciding to be honest.

"Well, he – he's not great," Soda said shakily, squeezing his hands into fists. "He's crazy tired – maybe sick or somethin', and it seems like he's had a real rough day at work. He's, uh, sleepin' now."

Soda didn't know why he felt so nervous. Maybe because this whole mess was partly – alright, entirely – his fault; after all, his fighting with Darry was probably stressin' him out real good, and he was the one who had started the food fight. He'd thought maybe it would cheer Darry up – but then, _thought_ probably wasn't the right word. He hadn't thought, really; he'd just acted, without thinking it through. Now that it was too late, it was obvious to him why that would stress Darry out. Hell, their food was all gone, wasted, all for a little fun. It was just like Darry said. Soda felt tears well up in his eyes and he cursed under his breath. If he wasn't so goddamned stupid –

Soda bolted.

He let the door slam and vaulted right over the fence, running as fast as he could, without a clear destination, his vision blurring with tears. He could hear somebody yelling behind him, probably Steve, but Soda ignored him, only running faster. Ever since they were little kids, though, Steve could always beat him in a race, and tonight was no exception – within a few minutes they were running neck and neck.

"You gonna stop," Steve hollered, "or am I gonna have to tackle you?" At that Soda slowed to a walk and then stopped altogether, whirling around and burying his face in Steve's chest, sobbing hard.

"Why the hell am I so dumb?" he choked out. "I just thought it'd be nice for Darry to loosen up and have some fun, and now look what's happened! I ain't askin' to be a genius or nothin', but why do I have to be like – like this!" He gestured wildly, and Steve wrapped his arms around him.

"Shut up, okay?" he said, uncharacteristically gentle. "You're not dumb, you just wanted to cheer him up and didn't think things through." Soda just looked at him, unconvinced, and Steve sighed, a little impatiently. "Listen, you're good with cars, right? That's gotta take some brains." He was looking at Soda expectantly, but Soda just shook his head, not wanting to hear it. Suddenly he whipped around and vomited in the grass, choking on sobs. "I'm such a failure – Darry hates me," he bawled, retching again. He felt Steve rub his back soothingly, hushing him as he rambled on, but Soda was inconsolable, not even sure what he was babbling about. Finally he sagged against Steve, utterly spent, and felt him pull his arm around his neck.

"C'mon," Steve said tiredly, starting to trudge forward, "let's get you home."

 **A/N: Perhaps I should be asking if Steve is the OOC one! Yet another sappy, overemotional chapter with somebody crying. This is the shortest chapter yet, and I apologize, but I couldn't think of a good place to end it, and I just wanted to get it posted. I know I promised Darry getting laid off and Soda dropping out, but it looks like that's getting bumped to the next chapter; again, my apologies :/ This chapter is pretty much Angst Without Plot (is that a thing? It should be), but the next chapter will have more of a story line, and I promise to update quicker.**

 **So, I wrote this at 2 a.m., and only read through it a couple of times, so please let me know if you notice any typos or errors. All the** _ **he's**_ **and** _ **him's**_ **felt especially awkward in this chapter, as well, so tell me if anything doesn't make sense. And don't be surprised if you're rereading this chapter and it seems a little different; I'll probably be doing a lot of editing even after it's posted.**

 **Also, I'd like to start a new story, so please PM me with requests or ideas (none with OCs though). I swear it won't interfere with this story getting updated faster ;) R &R!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

 **A/N: I'M STILL ALIVE! (And really sorry for the wait, life has been hectic.) Hopefully my complete awesomeness makes up for it :)**

 **Darry Fan: Aww thank you! I promise to update more often now.**

 **Allie: I'm so glad you love sappy chapters! I do have a soft spot for angst ;)**

He was walking out of the principal's office, feeling strangely accomplished despite the underlying fear of _what will Darry do_ , looking for Steve. Soda knew he had to get to the DX to change his hours, but he wanted Steve to be the first to know, and besides, he figured he'd need all the support he could get when Darry came home.

By the time Soda finally spotted Steve through the open door of the English classroom, there were only a few minutes left before school was out. It shouldn't have been so hard to find him, but Soda was in all the dummy classes aside from gym and auto mechanics, so he had no idea what Steve's schedule was, and was reduced to looking into every classroom until he lucked out. Letting out a sigh of relief, Soda burst in, interrupting the teacher's lecture without a second thought.

"Steve?" he said loudly, relief washing through him at the sight of his best friend's face. Steve stood up, frowning in confusion, ignoring the baffled and annoyed looks of their classmates.

"Soda?" he said worriedly. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" Soda just stood there, biting his lip helplessly, and Steve hastily shoved his books into his backpack and led Soda out into the hallway, immediately engulfing him in a hug as Soda sagged against him. "What's wrong?" Steve asked anxiously. "Is everyone okay? What happened?"

"Nothing – nothing happened," Soda managed, feeling a little guilty for scaring Steve. "I just… Steve, I dropped out."

" _What_?" Steve violently shoved him off. "How could you drop out? What about Pony? You're his role model. And Darry's going to be furious – "

"Darry will be fine," Soda snapped, frustrated at the lack of support. "And you don't even like Ponyboy! Why do you care – "

"You're right, I don't," Steve spat. "So what about _me_ , then, huh? What am I supposed to do when you're not in school – " He stopped. "Whatever. You know what, it doesn't matter. Drop out, see if I care."

"Steve, don't be like that," Soda pleaded. "You know I wouldn't drop out if I didn't have to, but we just don't have a choice."

" _We_?" Steve said sharply. "You mean Darry agreed to this?"

"No! No, that's not what I meant. Steve, please," Soda begged. "Darry's killing himself, man. I gotta do something!"

"How does dropping out help Darry?" Steve demanded. "Sounds to me like you're trying to stress him out _more_."

"Don't you see? If I drop out, I can work full-time at the DX and Darry can cut back his hours. Remember how sick he was yesterday? Well, he's working today anyway!" Soda was getting real worked up, but he didn't care. "That was _my_ _fault_! I have to do something!"

"Soda," Steve said, suddenly gentle, "that was all our faults, not just yours. Maybe you threw first, but we joined in, didn't we?" Soda just shook his head, unconvinced. "C'mon," Steve pressed, "you can't just drop out cause of that. It wasn't that big a deal, honest. Darry probably doesn't even remember!"

"Of course he does!" Soda shouted. Behind him, doors were opening and people were flooding the hallway, so Steve pulled him into a back corridor. "And it's _not_ just that, anyway! I'm _dumb_ , Steve. Everybody knows it. School ain't doin' me any good anyhow! I might as well make the best of it, right?" he said weakly. Steve shook his head.

"Come on, Soda, you ain't dumb," he said pleadingly. "You're just – "

"What? Lazy? Worthless? Because if that's what you're going to say, forget it! I get enough of that from my teachers without you starting in on me too!" Soda snapped. He realized there were tears running down his cheeks, but didn't bother wiping them away. He didn't have to be tough for Steve.

Sure enough, Steve pulled him into a hug. "Look, I didn't mean that, okay? Just – Soda, don't cry, okay? If you want to drop out, I'll support you. But I can't say the same for Darry," he said warningly. Soda let out a breath of relief.

"Thanks," he whispered, pulling away and wiping his eyes fiercely. "How – how do you think I should tell Darry?"

"Well," Steve said thoughtfully, "he'll probably kill you either way, but maybe you oughtta wait til your first paycheck – you know, then you'll have something to show for it, so he'll see the benefit in you dropping out." He shrugged. "Either way, you gotta be prepared for him to be real mad, Soda."

"I am," Soda insisted, but Steve just shook his head.

"That's not what I mean, Soda. You're real sensitive, and Darry isn't gonna be happy – he might say some real awful stuff to discourage you, but you gotta remember it's just cause he wants you to go to college and be successful."

"I know," Soda mumbled, blinking away a fresh bout of tears. Steve wrapped an arm around him. "Hey, it's okay," he said lightly. "I'll cover for you til you're ready to tell Darry, and I'll come with you to the DX and everything. You'll be fine."

"Yeah," Soda said, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah, okay."

By the time Soda got home, he was practically shaking, terrified that Darry would sense that something was wrong. The instant he stepped inside, though, he realized he had more important things to worry about; namely, Darry, who was hunched over in the armchair, head in hands. Soda just stood there, staring at him worriedly, until Darry finally raised his head, a pained wince on his face, and jolted in surprise, his features instantly rearranging into a blank mask as he sat up straighter. For a moment Soda was frozen, alarmed at how easily Darry hid his suffering. Then he found his voice again, but all he could manage to say was a weak, "Hi." Darry just nodded, and Soda frowned with worry.

"You okay, Dar?" he asked softly, kneeling next to Darry's chair and rubbing his shoulders lightly. This time Darry could not stop himself from letting out a small cry of pain, and Soda immediately jumped back, a guilty expression on his face.

"Sorry – " he started, embarrassed, but Darry shook his head.

"'S fine," he mumbled, leaning forward slowly to rest his forehead on Soda's shoulder. Soda hugged him, gently, and rubbed his back and shoulders. Finally Darry spoke, his voice weak and desperate, completely at odds with his blank expression.

"Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I – I mean, I'm doing okay, right?" Darry said desperately. "I'm not – I'm not _that_ bad at this – this whole parenting thing, right? You guys still… y'know… _love_ me."

"Of course we do," Soda whispered, concerned. "Dar – why would you even ask that? You know we love you."

"No, I don't," Darry said miserably. "I _know_ Ponyboy hates me, and lately it seems like you do too… "

"How can you say that?" Soda cried, jerking away. He knew he shouldn't feel so hurt, but he couldn't help it. "How can you think I don't love you?"

"I'm sorry," Darry said helplessly, a look of guilt on his face. "I just – "

"I love you," Soda told him firmly, "and Pony does too. He's just sensitive, and you're pretty hard on him sometimes." Darry winced.

"I know," he said, rubbing his eyes, "and I try not to be, I really do. But it's just – I mean, I can't – "

"It's okay," Soda said, his voice gentle but insistent. "He knows. Sometimes he forgets, but he knows." Darry gave a weak nod at this, seeming to relax.

"Okay," he said softly, but Soda was frowning, struck by a sudden thought.

"Dar, what are you doing home? Ponyboy's not even out of school yet."

Darry raised his head, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are _you_ doing home? Don't you have more classes?"

"I skipped," Soda admitted with a sheepish grin. "It's only English anyway."

"Only English which could determine whether or not you get into a good college!" Darry snapped, and Soda held back a wince. "Goddammit, Soda – "

"We both know I'm not getting into any college, so stop pretending," Soda said sharply, surprising himself. Darry flinched, clearly hurt, and Soda sighed. "Sorry," he muttered. "But I'm right, and you know it." Darry just shook his head, his expression full of exhaustion and resignation. "And besides, you never answered me. Why are you home so early?"

Darry mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What?"

"I got laid off, okay?" Darry snapped, and Soda felt his jaw drop. Superman, laid off?

"W-what?" he managed finally. "Why?" Darry just glared, his eyes red-rimmed, and Soda suddenly felt guilty. "Well, it's not – it's not so bad," he said in a fake cheerful voice. "You'll just get another job, right? And – "

"Could you stop with that goddamned optimism for five seconds!" Darry exploded, and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Soda was still sitting there, kneeling next to the armchair, wondering what they were going to do, when Ponyboy came home.

 **A/N: I just kinda banged this one out on a whim so please let me know if you notice any mistakes! I'm not super happy with it because it feels rushed to me but I know I haven't updated in like a million years so I'm just going to post it anyway. Also, I'm not really sure if I should stay with Soda's POV or go back to Darry, so let me know what you guys think!**

 **Again, I'm really sorry about the wait – I promise I'll update faster after this! R &R, people!**


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